


My Queen

by icarriedamango



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Corporate, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Cersei will forever and always be a villain, Contracts, F/F, Grinding, Implied Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Non-Consensual Spanking, Obedience, Ownership, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarriedamango/pseuds/icarriedamango
Summary: Cersei Lannister is a corporate shark and Sansa Stark is her next conquest.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	My Queen

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Please mind the tags. Cersei is a horrible human in every universe, and I make no attempt to humanize her here.

Since the inhale of her first breath, Cersei Lannister has known one thing to be true: the world was meant to be at her feet. The blessing of this knowledge has guided her through the artificial constructs placed in her path by a father who wished only for sons and had standards so high, not even a king could meet them.

But Cersei Lannister is a Queen, a titan of industry, a woman of such vast wealth and power the laws of men do not apply. And today, after four years in a vicious battle to gain control of Stark Timber, Cersei Lannister will finally add the crown jewel to her empire.

Chasing Stark Timber for her portfolio was an unexpected move for market analysts. What does Cersei Lannister want with the lumber business? The Corporate Lion, Cersei Lannister, digs her claws into Stark Timber. Will the Queen of Takeovers sell the Starks for parts?

Cersei’s answer, no matter how many times or how they asked, remained unchanged: I believe that sourcing new technological advancements from one of our most fundamental renewable resources is the only path forward for our planet. Stark Timber is a leader in their field, and I only work with the best.

Her comment usually ended with a slight smirk and a twinkle in her eye the media called mischievous and her enemies called the end.

The truth, of course, was that Cersei Lannister did not care in the slightest about renewable energies or saving the planet.

No, what Cersei Lannister cared about was Sansa Stark, and how she would look kneeling at Cersei’s feet, wearing nothing but a collar, and a downward gaze.

* * *

It’s four years ago, nearly to the day, and Cersei is participating in a panel at Davos with a young and unbearably gorgeous and shy Sansa Stark. The young woman glows as she explains how her new division of Stark Timber will focus on sustainable wood housing solutions for housing insecure families, how her goal is nothing less than to eradicate homelessness, how if we all banded together we can solve this problem in our lifetimes and help the planet in the process.

Cersei finds her words excruciatingly earnest and completely unachievable, and Cersei Lannister holds her tongue for no-one, so she says exactly that.

And then, shy Sansa Stark gazes over at Cersei through fluttering eyelashes and states, with surprising steel, “Well, not all of us wish to spend our days profiting from the loss of others. Some of us wish to do more and be better, and that’s why…”

Sansa continues to speak, focus back on the audience, explaining her plans in greater detail, but Cersei has stopped listening. A feeling rises in her chest, one inescapably tied to every takeover her massive fortune was built upon. The need always starts as a gentle tickle until it spreads out, cascades through her veins, rises to her throat and catches her breath.

It is the call to conquer. To control. To take something strong and beautiful then bend it to her will until its new form weeps in gratitude at the press of Cersei’s fingers. Cersei knows quite intimately, that she will not be satisfied until this need is quenched and the conquest is complete.

Sansa Stark will be hers. Cersei adds it to the list of things she knows to be true.

* * *

Her methods are unconventional, certainly. But Cersei understands the principles of a hostile takeover do not change whether it’s a business or person: understand their weakness, apply pressure until the weakness is all that surrounds them, then offer your hand as the only way out.

The Starks are an incredibly simple family that believes in the better good and each other. This simplicity is their greatest strength and their greatest weakness. They trust one another without reservation and look upon all outsiders as a threat. As such, it takes the better part of two years for Cersei to amass twenty percent of Stark Timber stock before she can make her first official offer to buy the company outright.

As expected, the Starks decline. Unexpectedly, they immediately call a board meeting to establish a new clause which stipulates any hostile takeover will result in the hostile actor’s shares being diluted, while the rest of the board’s shares remain untouched.

It’s an extraordinarily effective Hail Mary that would have forced another investor to walk away. Cersei only smirks and changes her plans of attack.

* * *

For two years, Cersei surreptitiously acquires majority shares in holdings owned by key Stark Timber board members and companies in the Stark portfolio until she holds the keys to all of their fortunes. She doesn’t even have to call the vote herself. Stark Timber is hers just like she knew it would be.

During the course of this takeover, Cersei maintained an absolute distance from Sansa Stark. On this day, with one more card left to play, surround by the entire Stark clan as they sign away their legacy, Cersei asks everyone except Sansa leave the room.

Cersei has played this moment in her head many times over the years. Sometimes while a subordinate was speaking to her, sometimes with her fingers buried in her pussy as she writhed, sometimes on the rare occasion she still allowed Jaime to plunge his cock into her from behind.

“I’d like to make you an offer,” Cersei says.

Sansa sits on the other side of the conference table. Rage flows from her in waves.

“My answer is no,” Sansa replies.

Cersei smirks, she would be disappointed if Sansa’s first answer were anything else. She looks down at the contract in front of her. “Once I sign this, not a single Stark will have an association with Stark Timber for the first time in its century-long existence.” Cersei looks up at Sansa then, smirk in place.

“Perhaps I will sell it for parts until even the smallest branch is broken. Or perhaps I will undo all of the advancements you’ve made that help the environment but currently hinder the bottom line.” Cersei shrugs, not a care in the world. “I don’t know… perhaps I’d like to see how many homeless people I can create in my lifetime.”

Sansa remains silent at Cersei’s words, but her body and eyes vibrate with anger. Cersei wishes she could lick Sansa’s skin to unearth what that righteousness tastes like. In due time, she will know. Of that, she is certain. “I’d like to make you an offer,” Cersei repeats.

Sansa clenches her jaw, the muscles grind against her pale skin as she nods.

“I want you,” Cersei says. “Your mind, your body, your obedience,” she continues. “In return, I will not dilute your family’s remaining shares and I will be a silent partner while the Starks are left to run the company as they please. I do understand that you Starks are the proud sort, so if you say no, I will understand. No hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings?!” Sansa finally yells. “Except for the part where you leave my family destitute and the company generations of Starks have put their blood and tears into in shambles?”

Sansa’s fury is delicious. Cersei nods in agreement, “All choices have consequences, Miss Stark. It is best to understand that now. Feel free to walk out the door if you so desire.”

Sansa doesn’t move. They sit in the conference room in complete silence for nearly thirty minutes as Cersei watches the struggle play out on her expressive face.

“What are the terms?” Sansa finally asks.

Cersei doesn’t smile. Not yet. She just pulls a contract from her bag, holds it out, and waits as Sansa wars with herself before walking to Cersei and grabbing the document to read.

“My word is your law, your judge, your jury,” Cersei says. “We will marry, an act that is conveniently salacious enough for the media to focus on.” She deeply enjoys knowing that speculation about her relationship with Sansa will be all anyone will be able to speak about.

The other rules are extremely straightforward.

_Sansa is not permitted to lie to Cersei._

_Sansa will refer to Cersei as “My Queen.”_

_Sansa’s body and mind belong to Cersei, and Cersei will care for them accordingly._

_Sansa will speak freely when they are alone, but she is not permitted to speak to anyone else without Cersei’s explicit consent._

_Sansa is permitted to call one member of her family every Sunday for a ten-minute conversation._

_Disobedience will result in a punishment of Cersei’s choosing, up to Cersei canceling the contract and leaving the Starks with nothing._

Sansa looks up from the document, aghast. “You want me to be your slave!”

“Obedience is a choice, Miss Stark. Just as it is your choice whether to sign this contract, should you proceed, it is your right to withhold your obedience. Should you trust me with it, I promise I shall cherish it. But do remember, Little Dove, every choice has a consequence.”

Sansa looks down at the contract again. “This is a ten-year contract. That’s insane.”

Cersei remains quiet as Sansa prolongs the inevitable.

“One year,” Sansa counters, nostrils flaring as she nervously runs her fingers through her fiery hair.

“No.”

Sansa swallows hard. “Five. Please.” Her big, beautiful blue eyes shine with tears she refuses to let fall. Her strength is admirable, but Cersei knows those tears will soon belong to her.

“You have my terms. What is your decision?”

It takes several more minutes, but Sansa does exactly what Cersei knew she would four years ago, and signs the contract. A single tear finally escapes down Sansa’s cheek. Cersei gently wipes it away with her thumb. She rubs it against her own tongue and the saltiness of it is breathtaking.

“You are mine now, Little Dove.”

* * *

They are married immediately, right in the boardroom, as Cersei had an officiant on standby.

Sansa says her goodbyes to her enraged and pleading family and follows Cersei into the waiting car.

They make it home in time for lunch, just as Cersei had planned. She instructs Sansa to her seat at the table they wait for a light meal to be brought to them.

"I’ve canceled all of my plans for the next week so that I can help you acclimate to your new life,” Cersei begins. “But my dreadful brother is having a birthday celebration that we must attend in two weeks' time, so my hope is that you will have adjusted well enough by then. To be clear, I do not expect immediate perfection, but I will expect you to behave in front of others.”

Sansa remains committed to her silence as a plate is placed in front of Cersei. She instructed the chef to keep it simple today. Accordingly, her plate holds freshly grilled salmon and roasted asparagus. She cuts into it and takes a small bite. Divine, as always.

She poached Chef Shae from her dreadful brother and it is one of the best decisions she’s ever made. She cuts another bite and holds the salmon up to Sansa. “May I feed you?”

"No, but you can go fuck yourself,” Sansa seethes.

It appears the lid is finally off on her anger. Cersei smiles. “This week will be difficult. It is important that you have proper nutrition.”

"Go. Fuck. Your. Self.” Sansa enunciates clearly. “You said I can say what I want when we are alone, right? So, that’s what I want to say.”

"Very well.” Cersei nods. She continues to eat her lunch at a sedate pace while Sansa shoots daggers at her with her eyes. Once the last bite is gone, Cersei dabs the corners of her mouth with her napkin and stands. “Follow me.”

She walks out of the dining room and feels Sansa’s hesitation before she hears the young woman’s footsteps.

* * *

Cersei’s bedroom is large and meticulously decorated. So much so that the extra adornments aren’t easily recognized upon first glance. Cersei sits on the edge of her bed and gently crosses her legs. “Remove your clothing,”

“What?!”

Cersei doesn’t repeat herself. The one time it happened in the boardroom was a necessary anomaly to get Sansa to sign the contract. It’s important that Sansa begin to understand her new role. Cersei raises one eyebrow, flatten her lips, and loses all amusement from her eyes.

Sansa stares her down. Cersei doesn’t flinch. She has all night if need be. Sansa knows her options. Cersei is merely awaiting her choice.

The two women remain locked in their stare-off for two hours before Cersei retrieves her phone and begins to make business calls and answer emails. When her dreadful brother calls her, sunset has come and gone.

“Of course I succeeded,” she says drearily. She told her him her plan soon after she concocted it. She tells Tyrion everything as he was the only one who had an appropriate response when she shared that the world would be at her feet one day. “Hmmm, currently she’s standing in my bedroom… no you cannot come over… I don’t care if I took Shae from you. You are too wasteful with your toys as you have always been… We will both be in attendance at your awful party. Do make sure to have my favorite champagne on hand.”

As is her way, Cersei hangs up without saying goodbye. She stares at Sansa as the young woman shifts from foot to foot. “I’m impressed by your stamina, Little Dove. You will need it. Wake me when you are ready.”

With that, Cersei prepares herself for bed. She’s an early riser, four am every morning, without fail. She goes through her nightly routine then settles herself amongst sheets expensive enough to feel like a lovers caress. She falls into a peaceful, but light sleep soon after her head graces the pillow.

* * *

“I’m ready.”

Those are the words that wake Cersei from her slumber. Slowly, she lifts herself from her bed and retakes her seat. Sansa stands before her, fully clothed, moonlit tear tracks not quite dried on her cheeks.

Cersei still doesn’t repeat herself.

Sansa begins with her blouse. It’s a frilly thing in a beautiful blue that matches her eyes. Cersei makes a note to buy her Dove more items in this color.

The expanse of Sansa’s skin is revealed slowly by shaking hands. Cersei wants to reach out and rub her fingertips along the lines of the young woman’s abs as the greet her eyes. Cersei enjoys abs on her men, but for Sansa, she thinks she might like a little more to grab onto. She will speak to Shae and a nutritionist about getting Sansa’s body to where she wants it. Sansa slides her pants down her longs legs and steps out of them until she stands before Cersei in her bra and underwear. She moves to unhook her bra when Cersei says, “Stop.”

Cersei walks close to Sansa, “Let me.” Slowly, she unhooks Sansa’s bra and reveals breasts that look like they will overflow in her hands. Then she glides Sansa’s underwear down her legs until the young woman steps out of them.

She stands up and takes Sansa in fully. “You are exquisite,” she says. “But you have broken rules two and three. What are they?”

Silence. Sansa looks over Cersei’s shoulder instead of making eye contact.

Calmly, Cersei walks to the far bedroom wall. “Come here.” Sansa follows without protest. “Do you see the restraints?”

The young woman looks around until she looks closely at the wall. Two restraints protrude only enough to be seen if you are explicitly looking for them.

“Face the wall, and place your hands in them.”

Sansa hesitates again but does what she’s told.

Cersei fastens the leather cuffs around Sansa’s wrists. “Is this too tight?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Use your words, dear.”

“No.” The words shoot from Sansa’s lips as if she means to kill Cersei with two letters.

“Now your feet.” Sansa spreads her legs and Cersei secures her ankles to the wall. “Is this too tight?”

“No.”

Cersei steps back to look at her wife. Sansa is unbearably gorgeous, hands and legs secured to the wall, spread-eagle, ass round and ready for whatever Cersei desires, breathing not as calm as Cersei knows the young woman wishes it were.

“Proper nutrition is extremely important, Little Dove, but I understand that today has been a great deal of upheaval and you may not be up to eating. Tomorrow I will not be so forgiving. If that were your only transgression, you could be comfortable in bed at this very moment… What is rule number 2, Sansa?”

Silence.

"Very well.” Cersei slides her body against Sansa’s back and whispers in her ear. “Tonight, I will use my hands.”

The first smack against Sansa’s ass sings through Cersei’s palm like a favorite song. She gives Sansa alternating smacks on each cheek before asking again, “What is rule number 2?”

Sansa presses her lips together and furrows her brow, but does not answer.

Cersei smiles. If it were easy, it would not be worth it. She increases the intensity of her smacks and maintains an unsteady rhythm until Sansa makes her first gasp.

Sansa’s ass is red with the imprints of Cersei’s hands, but she knows the sound isn’t just one of pain. Sansa’s slow pleasure coats the inside of her thighs.

Cersei places her lips just outside the shell of Sansa’s ear. “What is rule number 2?” Sansa scrunches her eyes closed and leans her forehead against the wall.

Cersei loves breaking strong things. Her smacks land harder, the sound reverberates through the room.

Soon, they play an alternating beat to Sansa’s gasps and moans. Sansa tries to restrain them. The effort is clear on her face and the clenching of her jaw, but the sounds escape anyway. Cersei drinks each one up.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Little Dove? You’re dripping all over my floor.”

"No,” Sansa wrenches out.

Cersei rubs her hands against Sansa’s ass. The skin is hot to the touch. She lets her finger slide between Sansa’s cheeks.

"No, My Queen! Please!” Sansa gasps, desperately.

"Good girl. But you have violated rule number one - Do not lie to me.” Cersei slips her fingers lower, slides them against Sansa’s labia, coating her fingers in Sansa’s wetness,

"If I fucked you right now would you come?”

"Yes, My Queen.” Sansa chokes the words out in a shamed whisper.

"Do you want to come?”

"No, My Queen.”

"But how can that be?” Cersei asks brightly. “You’re wet and swollen and gaping, basically begging for me to fuck you.”

Sansa takes a shuddering breath. “The mind and the body want different things, My Queen. Please, please don’t.”

"Thank you for being honest with me, Little Dove, but your mind belongs to me, does it not?” Cersei whispers the words against Sansa’s ear as she slips one finger into Sansa’s pussy. “As does your body.”

Sansa gasps, and bucks, and cries.

Cersei doesn’t move her finger as she reaches around and grabs one of Sansa’s already hard nipples with her other hand. She rolls the bud slowly, back and forth. Neither of them speaks. There’s only the sound of Sansa struggling not to gasp and not to move… until she does. She tries to grind her pussy down on Cersei’s finger, her movement restricted by her restraints.

Still, Cersei remains still.

Sansa tries again, and again, her movements shallow and absent of what she needs. Her breath becomes jagged. Wetness slides down Cersei’s hand.

“Please, My Queen.”

“Please, what?”

The entirety of the past four years of effort flashes before Cersei’s eyes, from the first time she saw this beautiful woman and knew she would be hers to the movement of her hand as she signed her name to Cersei’s contract.

“Please, fuck me, My Queen.”

Cersei smirks. She slides her finger out of Sansa’s pussy and slides back in with three.

Sansa’s moan is guttural and accelerates the fire already burning in the pit of Cersei’s stomach. She thrusts her fingers in and out, in and out, until she’s gasping in time with Sansa’s breaths and Sansa’s moans bounce freely off the wall.

"Cum for me, Little Dove.”

And Sansa does. Her body locks down onto Cersei’s fingers, a great spasm shakes her body, and a long, dark groan escapes her lips.

“You’re magnificent,” Cersei whispers.

She releases Sansa from her restraints and settles her limp body face down against the bed. Cersei removes her own underwear, lifts the hem of her lingerie, drapes herself over Sansa’s back, and grinds her clit into the young woman’s ass.

She needs Sansa to cum again so she finds the woman’s clit and rubs circles in time with the thrusts. Within minutes they’re both gasping, and Sansa is pushing her ass back into Cersei, begging for more. Cersei holds on as her orgasm builds. Her lower stomach is coiled tight, inching closer and closer. Her thrusts become erratic, but her fingers on Sansa’s clit don’t waiver.

“Fuck,” Cersei says. And then she cums, bucking against Sansa’s ass, with Sansa following right behind her. She collapses against Sansa’s back, catching her breath.

Sansa cries silently into the mattress.

"What are you thinking?” Cersei asks, catching her breath.

“That I hate you… My Queen”

"I know.” Cersei places a soft kiss on Sansa’s cheek. “But you won’t always.” She rises from the bed and grabs a box from her bedside table. She takes out some lotion and squeezes some into her hand before gently applying the cool cream to Sansa’s ass. “My rules are steadfast, Sansa. And you are proud. This will get harder before it gets easier. I will give you this courtesy, this one time. But I will never ask again. Do you wish to leave?”

Sansa scrunches her eyes tightly closed as the tears stream in rivers down her face. It takes her an eternity to answer, but when she does, her voice is resolute.

"No, My Queen.”

Cersei smiles, soft and rare, “Thank you, Little Dove.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave a comment and let me know. It would be much appreciated. If you want more stories in this verse, feel free to drop a prompt, and if it sparks anything, I'll write it.


End file.
